Going Up

Good morning, FFFs!

Here it is. Another Friday. The days are marching on relentlessly, and they won't slow down. 

I did get to stay home most of this week. Well, at least compared to last week. This time my sis and I went over to my brother's on Tuesday and spent the day packing orders. I worked nursery Wednesday evening, and then last evening we went over to my brother's for Buster's 3rd birthday party.

I haven't written at all this week. I really wanted to, but that hasn't happened. Mostly because two of my evenings were busy, and I was tired on Tuesday. But I did manage to get the idea for this year's Christmas play at church. I had one idea, but it wasn't working. And I had all sorts of vague ideas that didn't go anywhere. Now I have the idea that is working. I just have to write the play now.

I am still hoping to work on "Lake Wood" though because I really want to get it finished.

Guess what I actually did yesterday? I worked on writing blog posts! I haven't really worked on them since June, so it was kind of fun. I need to work on them more often so I get enough of them scheduled for when I'm really busy, but I think I at least have ideas for most, if not all the rest of the weeks this year.

It sure is quiet without the chatter and business of Camp going on. But it also means I haven't been as distracted. 😉 Oh, I got asked to speak to a group of ladies (I think they are all reading or writing teachers) in January! I haven't come up with my topic yet. I was told it could be about how I get my ideas and write, ideas for promoting writing or reading in students, or anything else that relates. It should be fun since I love talking about writing. 😀 And I was told I could bring my books to display on a table. I don't think they realize just how many books I have. 😁

Today's story is just a sketch. I grabbed my "Emotion Thesaurus" and randomly picked an emotion and wrote about it. Enjoy!

Going Up

    Justin glanced down at his watch. Maybe there wouldn’t be enough time. It was half-past two. They didn’t have to be back until five. There was time. Too much time.
    “Hey, come on, Justin!”
    Looking up, Justin gave a nod. “Be there in a minute. Need to tie my shoe.” He crouched and carefully began tying his shoe, making sure it was secured with a double knot and then checking his other one. At last, with a sigh, he stood and followed the rest of his youth group down the trail toward the lookout.
    Collin and his sister, Paris, had lingered behind and waited for him to catch up. “Have you ever been up in the lookout tower, Justin?” Collin asked.
    “Nope.” Justin smiled quickly. “We don’t get to the park much. You know what happens when you live close to something; you never visit it.”
    “That’s the truth,” Collin admitted. “We lived near Mt Rushmore for three years, and I think we visited it twice.” He looked over at his sister for confirmation.
    “Yep,” Paris agreed. “We went right after we first moved, and then Mom thought we should go once more before we left. But you’ve lived here all your life, right?” She looked at Justin.
    “Uh huh.” He clenched his hands and then straightened his fingers and wiped them down the sides of his jeans. He could feel a tightness in his chest, and he drew a deep breath hoping it would go away. It didn’t. “I just won’t go,” he thought. “I can do that.”
    “I can’t wait to get up to the top and look at the view,” Paris said. “I’ve heard you can see for miles from up there.”
    Justin didn’t reply. He knew they were almost there. Almost to the tower. He could hear the voices of those ahead ,and he paused to examine the leaf of a tree.
    “Hey, Justin.”
    “Be right there, Collin.” He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the leaf. Then another of a tiny flower. The voices hushed, and Justin hoped they’d go up without him.
    “Justin!”
    So much for that hope. Justin recognized the voice of their group leader and started forward once again to join the fringe of the group.
    The leader looked around. “All right, a few instructions before we head up. No goofing off when we’re up there.” Mr. Thornton looked pointedly at two of the guys until, with sheepish grins, they nodded. “No shoving to get a better spot to take pictures. We don’t want any phones, cameras, or people taking flight.”
    Justin grimaced at the chuckles that went through his friends.
    “I think that’s all. Ready to head up?”
    “Yeah!” Cheers rang on all sides, and Justin tried to act excited.
    Mrs. Thornton went up with the first wave of young people, and her husband lingered on the ground watching the rest move on inside the structure and start up the stairs.
    If only someone else would linger and start talking. Justin glanced around but found everyone moving in the direction of the stairs.
    Collin beckoned him, and he reluctantly moved over. “Come up with us.”
    “It’s going to be such fun,” Paris added, her eyes sparkling.
    “I don’t think–” Justin began slowly.
    “Oh, come on, please,” Paris begged. “You don’t have to go near the edge if you don’t want to. But you should go up and see the view since you’ve never done it before.”
    Justin could feel the sweat trickling down his back. “I guess–”
    “Great! Come on!” Paris started up the stairs, and Justin found his feet slowly following.
    “It’s just a set of stairs,” he told himself. “I can do stairs. This is no big deal.” But each step became harder than the last. At the first landing he glanced up. The stairs seemed to never end. Behind him were Collin and Mr. Thornton. He had to keep going.
    To keep his mind off how high he was going, Justin began counting the steps under his breath. He would conqure this fear even if it killed him!
    “Hey, Mr. Thornton,” someone shouted down from above. “Does this tower move with the wind?”
    Justin froze. His hand gripped the railing and his knuckles grew white. His breathing sped up, and he accidentally glanced down. Closing his eyes against the sudden dizziness, he fought to keep standing as his legs turned to jelly and his head pounded. He had to get back down.
    “Justin?”
    Starting as someone touched his arm, Justin opened his eyes and saw Collin looking at him with concern.
    “Are you okay?”
    He tried to speak, but his voice refused to work. It was better after clearing his throat. “Heights–” He shuddered. “Can’t stand ‘em.” Quickly his shut his eyes again as the world seemed to spin.
    Collin said something, but it was taking all of Justin’s focus not to panic completely, and he didn’t understand him.
    A firm arm came around his shoulders, and someone pried his fingers off the railing. He was going to fall!
    “Justin!” Collin’s voice was almost sharp. “We’re going down. Take a step down.”
    Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Justin managed to step back down one, then two, then three steps. They had reached one of the landings.
    “Justin, there are seven steps to the next landing. You can make it down seven steps, can’t you?”
    Opening his eyes and forcing himself to look at Collin, he nodded. “I . . . I think so. You go on up. I’ll make it down now.”
    Collin shook his head. “No way. I’m not letting you go down alone looking the way you look now. Oh, good, here’s Axton.” Another young man, one of the older ones, stopped beside them.
    “Going down?” His voice was cheery. “Me too. I’ve had enough of the wind and the view.” He moved to Justin’s other side and took a light hold of his arm.
    To Justin, the steps down to the ground seemed like a hundred, and it felt like days before they reached it. But at last they had earth beneath their feet. Justin’s knees sagged, but Collin and Axton half carried him to a bench. There he sat in silence, his eyes closed, trying to slow his breathing down.
    At last, when the panic left and his heart was beating normally, he looked up. “Thanks. I thought maybe I could do it, but–” He shook his head. “You two should go up. I’ll be fine here now.”
    Axton shook his head. “I was already up. I don’t enjoy heights very much, so I’ll just stay down. Collin?”
    Tipping his head back and looking at the top, Collin shook his head. “No, I’m good. What if we take a look at the map and see if we can figure out how to get back to the cars without going on the trails we came on.”

Do you like heights?

Is there something you are terrified of?

How was your week?

What's Wrong with Caleb? - Part 3

Happy first for April, FFFs,

One time April first fell on Friday, I added a little part to the longer story I was posting (part of The Unexpected Request) and "killed off" the main character. I was also gone all day to a homeschool conference, so I couldn't reply to anyone until that evening. Boy, did I have some comments. ;) I did have several people who were suspicious because of how I had done it.
But don't worry, I didn't do anything like that today. This story is exactly how I ended it to begin with.

I did do something different this week. On Wednesday, I was able to go with some friends and a group they had gotten together to help out at Voice of the Martyrs for the day. I spent all day stuffing the large envelopes and getting them ready to mail. So, if you get Voice of the Martyrs, I might have gotten it ready for you. Of course there were still thousands to do, but we did make good progress.

And the other news for this week is that I've finally been able to get a good bit of TCR-6 written. Not as much as I would have liked, but the first chapter is probably done. Last night I did switch stories and write some more about Dylan and Fern. :) Hope you don't mind. ;)

Here is the end of this story. Now just remember I told you I overdid the emotion just because I was trying things out. Enjoy and tell me if your guess was correct.

What's Wrong with Caleb?

Part 3

    Not feeling hungry, Caleb sat fidgeting, shifting around in his seat, picking up imaginary crumbs and putting them on his plate. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt and fumbled with it as though trying to find a button to undo. His eyes darted around the room, carefully avoiding one corner of the counter where the pile of mail still sat.
    When Robert was finished, he spoke. “I’m done now. You want this pizza in a bag?” Caleb gave no reply and Robert touched his arm. “Caleb?”
    Jumping, Caleb whirled around as he sprang to his feet, his breath coming in gasps and his eyes wide. Sweat dotted his forehead. “What?”
    “I said I was done. Are you feeling all right?”
    “What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Pizza. Right. I’ll get it put away.”
    Robert didn’t answer,for he had his phone out and was busy with it.
    It wasn’t until the kitchen was clean and the cousins were sitting back at the table that Robert’s phone buzzed. He checked it quickly and sent a reply. “So, what’s been making you so jumpy?”
    “Me?”
    Robert looked around the room. “Think I’m talking to myself? Come on, now. Out with it!”
    Caleb’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Only the steady tick, tock, of the clock was heard.
    “I’d start talking, if I were you.” Robert’s voice was quiet. “Dad’s on his way over here.”
    “He shouldn’t come. I haven’t broken any law. I–” Caleb’s eyes darted about the kitchen, almost resting on the mail, but always moving away quickly.
    “How’s work going?”
    “Fine.”
    “How many yards are you mowing?”
    “I don’t know.” He made a vague motion with his hand.
    “Caleb!” growled Robert with growing exasperation. “Does this have anything to do with your lawn care business?”
    For the first time that evening, Caleb turned and met his cousin’s gaze. “No!”
    “Then what’s going on?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing. Just forget it.” He ran his fingers through his hair again.
    “No, I’m not going to forget it. Caleb, something is going on. You’ve been acting strange all week and I’m not leaving until I find out why. Now–”
    A sharp rap sounded on the back door and Caleb jumped.
    “Relax, it’s just Dad. I’ll get it.” And Robert stepped over to let his dad into the small kitchen.
    “This was not a good idea,” Caleb muttered, backing towards the open doorway leading to the rest of the house, as though meditating flight. Looking at his uncle as he came in, he breathed a sigh of relief; at least he wasn’t in uniform. There was just something about a police uniform that made him clam up.
    “Come back and sit down,” Robert called to him. “You aren’t going anywhere until you’ve spilled everything.”
    Reluctantly, Caleb made his way back to the table and sat down. His uncle was across from him, his arms crossed on the table.
    “What’s going on, Caleb?”
    “I don’t know! I–I just can’t look.”
    “Can’t look at what?” Robert was standing, resting his hands on the back of a chair.
    Caleb didn’t reply. His eyes darted across the room towards the mail before he swallowed and turned his face away.
    Robert had caught the direction of the glance, however, and asked, as with one long stride he closed the distance between the table and the counter, “Something in the mail?” When no answer came, Robert picked up the entire pile and returned to the table. “Don’t tell me you got all this today!”
    “No.”
    “And whatever it is that is bothering you might be in here?” Caleb’s uncle asked, looking keenly at the young face dotted with perspiration.
    “I didn’t look.” Caleb’s voice was almost a whisper and he wiped his arm across his face. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
    Robert, sorting through the mail, gave a snort. “Okay, so what is it you don’t want to know about? Hey, here’s a letter from Missouri Southern; isn’t that the university you applied to?”
    Pulling at the neckline of his shirt, Caleb nodded.
    “Here, check and see,” And Robert tossed the envelope onto the table in front of his cousin.
    “No!”
    Robert exchanged a glance with his father. “Man, is this what’s been eating you? Good grief, Caleb, just open it already and get it over with! They aren’t going to eat you.”
    Caleb’s breathing quickened and he swallowed hard several times. Twice he wiped his palms on his jeans and then shook his head. “I can’t. Someone else has got to. They might have rejected me!”
    Without a word, Caleb’s uncle took up the envelope and opened the flap. He pulled out the letter, read it through rapidly and then said, “You’ve been accepted.”
    “What?” Suddenly Caleb was all attention. “Say that again!”
    “You’ve been accepted. Here, read it for yourself.”
    “Read it to me, Robert,” Caleb begged his cousin. “My hands are shaking so badly I wouldn’t be able to hold the page still.”
    Robert did as he was requested though he didn’t put much animation into the reading of the boring form letter.
    “Wahoo! I’ve really been accepted!” Caleb sprang from the table in his excitement. “I didn’t think I would, but I was! Yes!”
    With a sigh, Robert, ignoring the exuberant celebration of his cousin, turned to his father and said, “He could have saved himself a week of misery, that letter was next to the bottom in the stack.”

The emotion I used was "Agitation" though others would work.

Would you have felt like Robert?

Were you expecting that ending?

Will you be back next week to see what is here? 

What's Wrong with Caleb? - Part 2

Hello Friday Fiction Fans,
We have a frost this morning, but it's not heavy and we wet our bushes so they wouldn't get killed. The sun is coming up in a clear sky and everything looks still and quite. After the strong winds we've had the last few days, no wind is really nice!

Don't blame me if I didn't get much written this week. :P I've only had two evenings so far that I could write and last evening I was visiting with the Graham Quartet. If there are any questions you would like answered, let me know and I'll ask. :)
But, just so you know, I did start writing TCR-6 on Tuesday! I didn't get very far, but I did start. If you have any ideas, suggestions or things you would like to see in the TCR books, let me know ASAP as I'm still looking for ideas for this book. Right now I have no idea when it will be finished as we are getting into the craziness of homeschool conferences and babysitting my nieces and nephews more and for longer times.
And have I mentioned that I've been busy designing covers for a certain two books? (Check the Read Another Page blog on Tuesday to see the finished results!) And now I have a collection of short stories that I'm putting together to give to all those who sign up on my e-mail list.

Here is the next part of this story. Like I said before, I had fun showing this emotion, so it is a bit overdone. :)

What's Wrong with Caleb?

Part 2

    Robert looked at his cousin with raised eyebrows. Then, stepping in, he pushed the door shut behind him. “Weren’t paying attention to someone pounding on your door? That’s the third time this has happened this week. Come on, Caleb, what’s going on?”
    Before he answered, Caleb reached around Robert and turned the lock on the door. “Come on in. Pizza’s about done.” He turned quickly and slammed his hip into the corner of a table he used to hold his briefcase. “Ow!” The exclamation escaped involuntarily and his hand went to his hip.
    “You okay?”
    “Yeah. I should move that thing.”
    The lights were on in the kitchen, but the curtains were drawn tightly shut, a fact that Robert noticed with a puzzled frown. His cousin rarely closed his curtains, even at night.
    Caleb noticed the frown and pulled two glasses from the cabinet. “The neighbors got a puppy and he howls if he sees light.” He gave a half hearted laugh. “Tough being a dog, I guess.” Having filled the glasses with ice water, he carried them over to the table. He could feel his hands trembling and rushed to set the glasses down before his cousin noticed. In his hurry he didn’t watch where he was going and half tripped over a chair.
    With an ejaculation of shock, Robert sprang from his seat, his shirt soaked with ice water.
    “I’m so sorry!” Caleb exclaimed, fumbling around for a towel. “That chair–I didn’t see it . . .” Running his fingers through his light hair, he stumbled over his words. “Should have dumped ‘em on me.”
    Looking up from a futile attempt to dry his shirt with another towel, Robert spoke. “What’s wrong with you, Caleb?”
    “Nothing. Just a little warm.” He could feel the heat of his face and turned quickly away. “The pizza. Stove–makes the kitchen hot. Go find one of my shirts.”
    “Huh! Have I shrunk?”
    Caleb knew he’d blundered again. His cousin was several sizes larger than he was and always had been. “Ah, um, I meant–never mind. You want to get the pizza? I’ll clean up the floor.”
    “Sure.”
    As he mopped up the water, Caleb tried to calm down. “Just take a deep breath. You’ve got this.”
    “You talking to me?”
    Caleb jumped. “What?”
    “Man, Caleb, what’s with you tonight? You’re as fidgety as Leah is when she’s been up to some mischief.” Robert brought two plates to the table and then carried over the pan of steaming pizza.
    After tossing the towel he had used across the room, Caleb sank into his chair and reached for his water glass. “Um, I should–”
    “Sit. I got this.” And Robert carried the glasses to the sink for refills. Returning to the table, he sat down and bowed his head. “Father, thank you for this food and this time. Bless both, I ask. And, Father, I don’t know what’s going on with my cousin, but help me know how to help him. Thank you. In Jesus name, Amen.”
    The kitchen was silent as the cousins focused on their supper. Only the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall broke the stillness.
    Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    “Caleb?”
    “Hmm.”
    “What’s really going on?”
    Not looking at his cousin, Caleb reached for another piece of pizza. “Nothing. I’m just hungry. Didn’t eat much lunch today. What about you? Did you actually talk to Shannon’s father?”
    “I did.”
    “And what did he say?”
    “He said he’d get back to me this weekend.”
    “Nervous?”
    “Some.”
    Tick, tock. Tick tock.
    Silence again pervaded the kitchen.
    “Caleb, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”
    “What’s to tell?”
    “I don’t know, that why I’m asking. You haven’t been yourself all week, and tonight is the limit!”
    “Actually the whole day was,” Caleb muttered, his mouth full of pizza. It was not his intent that Robert should hear him, much less understand him, but he did.
    “So, this entire day was off?”
    When he took a drink, his hand shook, splashing water down his front. “Guess I should go change my shirt.”
    “Nope. Nothing doing. Sit.” Robert ordered, catching Caleb’s arm and almost forcing him back into his seat. “You said you were hot. A little water won’t hurt you. It hasn’t hurt me.” And Robert glanced down at his own soaked shirt.
    “You’re right,” Caleb conceded. “Water doesn’t stain. Are you finished?”
    “No.”
    “Okay, I’ll just take care of the dishes and–”
    “I said I wasn’t done! Caleb, if you don’t loosen up and tell me what’s going on, I’m calling Dad.”
    “Sorry. Thought you said you were finished.”
    Robert glared in answer, his mouth full.
    Not feeling hungry, Caleb sat fidgeting, shifting around in his seat, picking up imaginary crumbs and putting them on his plate. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt and fumbled with it as though trying to find a button to undo. His eyes darted around the room, carefully avoiding one corner of the counter where the pile of mail still sat.

What is going on?

Are you more excited about the next Graham Quartet or TCR-6?

Will you be on Read Another Page on Tuesday?

I hope so because I can't wait to show you!

What's Wrong with Caleb? - Part 1

Oh, hello,
Is it Friday already? I was hoping it was just Thursday. But I guess it isn't. I feel like I lost a day this week. Hmm, I suppose I did as far as getting the things on my "to-do" list done. Since I was gone all day on Tuesday working as an Election Judge, there wasn't much chance to do anything else.

Yesterday I spent much of the day working on creating the actual cover for the new Graham Quartet book! It's exciting to see it coming together. I only have a little bit left and then have to finish up the inside before I can upload everything and order my proof copy. I'm hoping I can do that by this weekend. How would you all like to read an interview with the Graham Quartet?

Last Saturday evening I went to one of my friend's birthday party. It was a costume party and here's my outfit. Can you guess who I was? I'll give you a hint: I'm from a children's book.

  As much as I wanted to start work on TCR-6 this week, it hasn't happened. I never seem to be able to write the night before an election. (I also try to go to bed a little early since I have to get up at 4:30.) There is no way I can write while at the polls! (I tried it once and every single sentence I wrote had to be deleted.) I did write some on Wednesday night but that was on a blog story. Last night my grandpa and I were at a concert, so no writing then. Hopefully tonight and tomorrow night I can write.

This story was rather fun. Yes, it is a bit exaggerated, but I was trying something. I picked an emotion from my "Emotion Thesaurus" and wrote a short story focusing on one emotion. You're mission, should you choose to accept it, is to decide what emotion is being portrayed. You have three weeks to do it in. Have fun! :)

What's Wrong with Caleb?

Part 1

    Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    “Ugh!” Pulling his pillow over his head, Caleb tried to muffle the sound of the clock. He had to get some sleep!
    Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    It was no use. Finally, hurling the pillow across the room, he sat up and stared at the glowing red lights of his alarm clock. They stared back at him with a relentless gaze proclaiming that it was 4:27.
    With another groan, Caleb flung himself back down, forgetting he had no pillow. As his head thumped the mattress, he heard the bell in the church steeple ring the half hour. “My clock must be off. Or that bell is,” he muttered. He wished sleep would come to him, but after ten minutes of trying, he gave up.
    Leaving his bed unmade, he stumbled down the stairs of his small duplex and fumbled with the kitchen light switch. As light flooded the room, he blinked. “I gotta get a dimmer light. Or more sleep,” he thought, yawning and rubbing one hand over his unshaved chin.
    His eyes fell on a pile of letters shoved back on the counter. At the sight of them, he flinched, his shoulders tightened, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise. Quickly he turned away. “Breakfast. Got to get something to eat.”
    Once breakfast, if a pop-tart and a glass of orange juice could be called such, was eaten, Caleb left his dishes in the sink and hurried from the kitchen. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, he stopped in his room. The bed wasn’t made, his dirty clothes were lying strewn on the floor, and the full laundry basket which held his freshly washed clothes, courtesy of his aunt, waited to be put away.
    Deciding that the bed should be made, he stepped across the room and pulled up the bottom sheet. “Lumps. Must be my socks. Yep.” And Caleb fished under the sheet and pulled out his socks. He looked about him. Should he toss them on the floor or– “The basket. I’ll just put the clothes away first.”
    He jerked open a drawer of his dresser. It was full, but he took no notice and squeezed and crammed the clean clothes in, shoving the drawer until it closed about two inches then tossing the basket to the floor.
    “Now what was I doing?” He looked about the room. “Uh, right, bed.”
    The bottom sheet was straightened before he hurried across the room to look out the window.
    Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    Jerked back from his thoughts, Caleb returned to his bed making. But he seemed unable to stay focused. Half a dozen times he left the bed still unmade and walked to the window, another room, to the top of the stairs. At last, forgetting that his pillow still lay on the floor where he had tossed it, he disappeared downstairs.
    He tripped over a rug in the living room, knocked a lamp off the end table, and managed to grab the phone before it too landed on the floor. With a hand that trembled, he dialed a number.
    “Robert, it’s Caleb. Um, . . .” There was a long pause.
    “Caleb? You still there?”
    “Yeah. Uh, tonight, um, you want to come over for supper?”
    “What are you having?”
    “Uh, what do you want?”
    A chuckle came across the line. “Caleb, you don’t usually invite someone over for supper and then ask what they want. But, if it’ll help, pizza is always good.”
    “Right, pizza. Okay.” He hung up and stared at the opposite wall. He dropped the phone in his lap and wiped his moist palms on his jeans. He could hear the clock ticking.
    Ring-g-g!
    Starting as though the sound had been a shot, Caleb snatched the phone and pushed “talk.” His heart was pounding against his ribs.
    “Hello?” There was a quaver in his voice.
    “Caleb, are you all right?”
    “Yeah. The ring startled me.”
    “When are we eating?”
    “Let’s do six. Sorry, forgot to say. No, make that 5. Or–Oh, whenever you can come.”
    “All right.” The other voice was hesitant. “Caleb, do you want me to come over sooner? Or do you want to come over here?”
    “No, I’m good. Supper at six.”
    “All right. See you then.”

    Robert hurried up the steps two at a time and knocked on the door. There was no immediate answer and he knocked again, glancing about the dusky yard and watching the flashing, dancing lights of the fire flies. “Where is that guy?” he muttered to himself, opening the screen door and trying the doorknob. It was locked. Sighing with exasperation, Robert pounded on the door with his fist. “Caleb, open this door!”
    It was several minutes and many door poundings later before the door was unlocked and Caleb stood in the gloomy entryway his hair rumpled. “Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention.”
    Robert looked at his cousin with raised eyebrows. Then, stepping in, he pushed the door shut behind him. “Weren’t paying attention to someone pounding on your door? That’s the third time this has happened this week. Come on, Caleb, what’s going on?”

What do you think is going on?

Have any idea what emotion I'm writing about?

Will you be back next week?